


Passenger

by CalsLaundry



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Car Sex, F/M, Reader Insert, fem reader - Freeform, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-13 00:24:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11748273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalsLaundry/pseuds/CalsLaundry
Summary: "“I’ve wanted you for so long, cariño, so long…” his lips are on yours again, but with passion now. His want, his need for you seeped into every movement. Every grip was too tight, every kiss too strong, every roll of his hips too enticing."





	Passenger

**Author's Note:**

> Another Reader Insert fic? From me?! Once again, we have a fem reader having a lovely time with long haired Gabriel Reyes, but this one's got just a little more love. Some of the others in my bank are more gender neutral, and I'll be sure to get them up at some point!  
> As always, I would love a comment with your thoughts! I've been debating that whole headcanon and drabble request thing too, and I would love to know your thoughts!

Gabriel’s hand reaches across to squeeze your thigh. 

He is still fixed on the road, though his gaze occasionally shifts, and your eyes meet his. The air is thick, your chest feels heavy, and every time your gazes cross, your breath shortens.   
The pads of his fingertips are rough on your skin, but his touch, though bruising, is warm. The song changes and you catch his grin. You lean your head back against the seat and your eyes close. A blinding kaleidoscope of colours scatter against your eyelids with each passing streetlamp and storefront. His hand stays in place, the music has comforted you to utter bliss, and absentmindedly, you let your fingers entwine with his. Every sound beyond the speakers is lost to you until Gabriel interrupts.    
“Not gone to sleep on me already, are you?”   
You snort a laugh in return.

“No chance.”   
  
It wasn’t unusual for Gabriel to call you for a late night drive. It just meant he couldn’t sleep. The city lights mixed with music filtered through every emotion and brought him to a state of nirvana. For you, it did the same.    
Though he didn’t usually touch you.   
Not that you were complaining--it only added to the ecstasy. The flickering of lights had become sparse and you open your eyes to darkness.

“Where we going?”    
You look across at him and you’re met with a small smile.

“Just a change of scenery.”    
You nod and turn back to the window. The city lights are just beyond the trees and houses, and they shrink to pin pricks, like a reflection of the stars above them.

Your eyes close again, and your heart is in a whirl of excitement; the music, the lights, and the touch of Gabriel. When the car stops, you open your eyes, more slowly than last time. 

You gasp at the sight; an overlook is all you could call where you are.   
The city’s streets line like fairy lights; they reflect on the water, and the aura above the city makes it seem as if the air itself is glowing. 

Your mouth hangs open and you unbuckle your seatbelt as Gabriel’s hand leaves yours to do the same. He pushes his seat back and stretches. You miss his touch. He notices.   
He holds the arm closest to you out and gives a little nod for you to come closer. It’s awkward but you manage to lean into him, your head hits his shoulder and he leaves out a sigh.   
You stay. 

Your heart thumps steadily, faster than normal, masked by the drumbeats. 

He traces soft lines on your shoulder, and for a moment, you wish his fingers were everywhere, mapping your skin, committing every freckle to memory.    
You hear his breath catch, and you look up. His jaw is stiff as he looks ahead.

“You okay?”   
He glances down, your eyes meet for a heart swelling moment, and he looks back over the ocean of lights.

“Can you come closer?”  
  
You chuckle.

“Not really. Not without sitting on top of you.”

“That’s fine.”

You bolt up.

“What?”

“I want you to come closer, if that’s the only way then it’s fine.” 

Your chest feels frozen in place.  _ On his lap. _

“I mean, would it really, you know, would it be okay? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or, I don’t know.” You stammer.  
  
“If you’re not comfortable with it-”  
  
“No!”  
  
He raises an eyebrow as his eyes meet yours and he smirks.  
  
“Then come here.”  
  
It’s difficult, but in a moment, he is beneath you. The lights kiss your back, and he looks at you with something new. His hands take their place on your waist, as if to steady you. His brow creases and you question it with a tilt of your head. He holds tight when he sits up, his face stained with what seems to be curiosity. His hands move to hook behind your knees and he pulls you against him. Your arms drape over his shoulders, an attempt to regain some kind of composure.

Your thighs at either side of his anchor you, and your heart skips when one hand runs under your skirt to the back of your thigh. The other loses itself in your hair, not to tug or pull, only to hold you in place. His touch is not overwhelming, it’s secure. Your chest presses against his, and you swear you can feel his heartbeat against your own. His hand leaves your thigh, and instead splays out on your lower back. He’s pulling you closer, not that any closer is possible.    
His shoulders tense under your touch, and every graze of his fingertips leaves your skin aching for more. Each touch carries the weight of a thousand unuttered words, of every sideways glance and captured gaze and barest touch.    
Every second of adoration and devotion that had previously gone unsaid and unshown now flurries through his skin to yours. His warm breath hits your lips and you  _ want _ him. Every part of him. Your hands take the risk you’d held back for too long; they skim over the skin of his neck and cup his face maybe too gently. Your thumbs trace his jaw and he relaxes. His eyes, half lidded in his state of repose, meet yours and you fall further. The furrow usually etched in his brow softened when he looked at you, you had noticed it before, and you had always hoped this could be the reason. The trail left under his hand as it makes its way up your back tingles.    
He cups the back of your neck gently, almost uncharacteristically so. But you knew him better.

His eyes flick to your lips for a shadow of a moment before they’re back to yours, your forehead meets his with a gentle bump. His lips move so close to yours, whispering something quickly, before capturing yours in the most gentle kiss. Your stomach flips and your heart jumps and your hands grip just a little too tight and he laughs against your lips. But the laugh disappears when your lips meet again, this time with more longing. Fervent, overflowing with yearning and urgency. Like the moment could slip away. Like after your lips part, this moment will wisp into the night air, forgotten.

When the kiss does break, it is far from forgotten. Your lips feel swollen and you pray the sensation in them never leaves. If everything ended right now, if the world collapsed around you, it wouldn’t matter. You wouldn’t let go of this moment for anything.

He leans in to kiss you again, softly, softly.

His hands are braver, they tease over your thighs again, this time they linger and and coax you deeper into the kiss. Your fingers card through his hair,  _ was it always so soft?, _ and you feel his smile against your lips. 

You’re distracted almost immediately when his hands get a little cheeky; they disappear under your skirt and grip your rear to pull you closer. Your cheeks heat up and his lips leave yours.

“Is this okay?” You nod, a tad too vigorously. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long, cari ño, so long…” his lips are on yours again, but with passion now. His want, his  _ need _ for you seeped into every movement. Every grip was too tight, every kiss too strong, every roll of his hips too enticing. You laugh this time, he nips your lip in response.    
“Cheeky” 

You can’t help but laugh a little louder, and wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him harder than you thought possible.

His grip tightens, his hands wander under your shirt, his fingertips still leave paint splotches of pink on you and you want every one of them to stain you forever.    
The mood shifts when he looks up at you again, this time lust tinged his expression. You feel a warmth in your stomach. His hands move more slowly, more deliberate in every fleeting graze. 

You let out a breath and he is kissing you again.   
This time, the roll of his hips is unintentional. It is mirrored in the way his tongue presses against yours and his hand climbs higher, pausing for a moment before groping you.    
Your own hips press down against him, you did not notice how badly you needed friction until now. Your bra is tugged down without regard and his knuckles graze across your nipples and your head falls back. He pinches lightly then harder, and your shirt raises, exposing you to him.

Panic holds you for a moment.  
  
“What if someone sees?!”  
  
He shrugs, instead his tongue pokes over his lips and flicks against the sensitive bud while the other is teased and tormented by his fingers.

You breath out a long groan and cast any embarrassment aside. 

When his teeth graze against you, your nails dig into his shoulders and your ignored bud is captured in his mouth while his hand slips around your hip, curves over your rear, and a single finger presses against your underwear. Your hips buck at the feeling and the hand on your waist tightens its grip to keep you steady.

“Easy, _princesa,_ in time” Your whine comes by accident, and he chuckles. The soft breaths raise goosebumps on your chest.

“Are you that eager?” 

You encourage yourself not to nod too enthusiastically, but your hair still bounces and his jaw tightens again. 

No longer gentle, his hand is at the back of your head, pulling your lips to his, finger working small circles and long strokes against you as he does. Your hips push down on his hand and you can  _ feel _ yourself tighten with anticipation. Gasps and moans break each kiss, but he pulls you back without delay. 

But when his fingers halt, only to push your underwear aside, your heartbeat races, his fingers felt incredible with the buffer of cloth, but unhindered, one slips into you with ease and your back arches. You feel like you’re on display; his gaze is glued to your every move, and with your neck vulnerable, his teeth leave indents that make you crave more, but you don’t need to beg.

He accepts unvoiced requests and his teeth mark the curve of your shoulder, your collar bones, your chest, all while plunging his finger, soon joined by another, deeper.

Your body is tense in anticipation of your creeping orgasm, and he  _ knows _ .   
His hand is on the back of your neck again, and he pulls your head down so his lips meet your ear.

“ _ Cari _ _ ño _ , you’re so wet, I want to feel you, I want you around me.” You gasp breathlessly, and your hands beg for purchase on him.

“I want to know what you look like when you cum, I want to  _ feel _ it.”    
In a stutter of hips, your orgasm consumes you and your forehead meets his shoulder as you beg for him.

“That’s it, that’s it,  _ princesa _ .”   
When your hips still, he pulls you in for another kiss, and when the weightlessness leaves, your hand wanders, unintentionally but deliberately, to seek his hardness. A hiss through gritted teeth and you kiss him this time. 

Against his lips, yours move, asking permission, almost pleading.

“Please...let me...”   
He nods and his head lolls against the seat when you unbutton his jeans and free his length, thick and hot and beaded with precum. His breath hits your lips, and with your free hand, you grip the back of his neck. It is leverage for you, and your fingers twist through his hair and you take his lower lip between your teeth as you pump slowly. His loud groaning encourages you, his pulse races, you let go of his lip only to pepper his face with kisses and eventually get lost in his lips once more.

His hips snap up and he holds your hand for just a moment.

“ _ Cariño…”  _ Adoration takes the place of lust and he holds your cheeks as he kisses you. 

“I know this is fast, I never knew if I could tell you, now I just…” he swallows, taking a moment to bite his lip where you had, and intense chocolate eyes meet yours.

“I want to feel you inside,  _ Cariño.” _ _  
_ You nod with no hesitation. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes, please, Gabriel, I need it” your words fade to a whisper, and he takes the lead again.

His hands grip your hips and he pushes his hips forward.    
“If you need to stop..” You nod, you can feel the blush marring your cheeks, it is warm and the windows have fogged and what you’re doing is no secret to the outside, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

He grips himself, with one hand, the other grips your thigh, you pull your underwear to the side, and the tip of his length presses to your entrance. A silent question passes through his gaze again, and you respond by lowering yourself, slowly, feeling every inch sink into you. When your hips meet his, you feel  _ full _ . Even alone, he is possessive, and his arms are around you and his lips meet yours and the sound of your skin slapping lightly against his sounds wonderful against the music. When he moves, it feels divine, and you hold back your moans, but at every thrust you feel you want to scream his name, tell him how good it feels, how much you’ve wanted this, how much you adore him, how you want more, more,  _ more.  _ The word slips over your lips wetly, and his hands hold your hips and he delivers. Your back arches and your hair hangs back, your shirt is still up, and with your legs wide and him between them, you look a sight you never imagined for yourself. Your hands leave his shirt and go behind you to his knees. In your mind you criticise yourself, but it is pushed aside by the urge to hand yourself over to him completely, to give into him and let him claim you whatever way he sees fit. He approves with a possessive grin. Thrusts slow when he leans forward to kiss his way up your chest, and he admires the marks he left before falling back against the seat and letting go of whatever restraint he had left. Your mouth hangs open in a silent moan and he hits every spot you need.

“I’ve always wondered what you’d - ah - what you’d look like on top of me.” His words are quiet and punctuated with harsh breaths.

“I-is it everything you expected?” You try to smirk but it is rattled off of your lips with another strong thrust.

“Better.”

His hand rolls around your waist to support your back. His other hand glides over your stomach, and his thumb grazes your clit and you know you clench around him. He hisses and his head falls back against the seat.

“You look so good,  _ Cariño,  _ so good.”    
You can’t reply; your throat has hitched every word you want.

“I’m going to make you scream for me,  _ Cariño, I promise. _ ”    
His thrusts are long, slow, and his thumb circles you, teasing moans, breaths, pleas from you. You feel another climax coming closer, your chest feels heaves, and Gabriel’s fingertips dig into you. 

“Every night we’ve driven, I’ve wanted you on me like this, every time.”

His eyes are on yours and he groans when your eyes roll back with another long whine as his length settles in you again. His thrusts pick up and the hand on your back pulls you forward, your body feels so heavy when pleasure racks through it, and with this angle, he can kiss you. And he does, over and over, stealing your breath, your hands bury themselves in his hair and your moan and whine and call his name against his lips and with each thrust, your orgasm is closer, closer,  _ closer. _

“Cum for me,  _ Cariño,  _ that’s it, let go.”

And you do.

You call his name, cursing and begging, and he returns the pleas and pulls you off of him with a groan of your name and his seed covers your stomach.   
He slouches back against the seat. His breath is hard and his eyes are half lidded once more. When you lean forward to kiss him, you swear you hear him call you “mine”.    
  


  
  
  
  



End file.
